Soul Mix
by Poisoned Scarlet
Summary: 05: "How many more near-death experiences do you have to go through before you understand you're not invincible?" A 10-piece, song-inspired, drabble collection anyone could swing to...
1. Heart's a Mess

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Soul Eater or any other song and/or song lyric mentioned in this work of fiction. I make no profit from this.

**Soul Mix  
by. **_Poisoned Scarlet_

* * *

**Jam 01: **Heart's a Mess by Gotye**  
**_Maka_

"_Your heart's a mess, you won't admit to it  
It makes no sense, but I'm desperate to connect  
And you, you can't live like this..."_

* * *

She can't hear anything aside from the loud buffering of the wind, as it slaps her ponytails violently around her. Her skirt flutters and she's careful to keep Soul up and away from that part – by her head, as her gloved hands clutch the staff tightly.

The sun is setting gold.

Radiant amber rays encase her, giving her an almost angelic halo if it weren't for the rather crazed grin on her face, as she throws her head back and closes her eyes to enjoy the sensation of free falling.

She stretches out as if bored but her heart is racing in her chest; her blood is soaring through her veins as the ground comes closer and closer with every rapid beat.

"Maka..."

Closer and closer...

"Hey, Maka!"

She opens her eyes, watery due to the intense winds, as Soul's monotonous voice becomes slowly tainted with more panic the longer she surfs the dangerous currents of the winds.

"Maka, now!"

"I know." Maka says, but the wind blots the words from the boy as he uneasily glances down at the earth that is slowly meeting up to reach them – or were _they_ reaching _it_? – and fear begins to grip his heart.

Maka would never let them die.

Although the rather delusional, rather _insane_, grin that mars her face speaks volumes of just _what_ she is willing to let happen...

"MAKA!"

She expertly flips him in her hands, her feet landing solidly on the metal staff as she injects a burst of her wavelength through him and blasts back up into the dizzying sea of blue and white, feathers of white energy dissipating around her tragically.

The abrupt shift in gravity pulls her down, threatens to drive her off the solid metal of her partner, but she fights against it until finally she breaks past the barriers of the clouds and she levels herself again; out of danger, for another day.

"... You know," Soul begins, adrenaline still pumping through his body. "If you keep doing this, one day you won't be able to catch yourself before you hit the ground."

Maka gazes down at the land she can no longer see and smiles, melancholic. "Yeah, I know." Her fingers caress her scythe, the strong and unbreakable steel that has helped her fight through so many years. "But I'll never let you fall, Soul."

He doesn't reply because he can feel her clearly. He can feel her devotion and will and all of those confusing emotions she expresses, and knows she will keep her promise despite these insane free falls in which she takes sick joy.

* * *

**A.N: **So, I gave up on the whole 'rating'/'genre'/'pairing' thing I took a habit of doing. It's tedious and probably unnecessary and dumb. Hurray for growing up! XD

About this collection: it's a song-inspired collection and it will be approximately ten chapters long but no longer than twenty. There is no time-line to these drabbles, they can range from when they first met to some time in the future, they can be long or short, and I alternate from manga to anime.

In this drabble, it has manga themes, which is why Maka can sky-dive (the whole Soul-being-a-Deathscythe-and-gaining-the-ability-to-fly thing). If you have not read the manga... whoops.

Sometimes I choose the song, sometimes I don't, so if the lyrics don't quite match the content, don't call me out for it: I probably put my iPod on shuffle, got some retarded song that has absolutely _nothing _to do with what I wrote, but I was _somehow_ inspired by it...

Authors are strange like that – especially unofficial ones.

Review, and happy holidays! :D

_Scarlett._


	2. Drive My Soul

**Soul Mix  
by. **_Poisoned Scarlet_

* * *

**Jam 02: **Drive My Soul by Light  
_Soul_

"_You make the darkness disappear  
I feel found when you are near  
I know where I am when you are here  
My way becomes so clear..."_

* * *

_Damn._

He ran faster down the cobblestone streets, sneakers squeaking against the water that rained down from the bruised sky. His heart was alive in his ears, breaths wheezes that gave away his terror, but he wouldn't stop running even if they told him he was running to his own grave.

_Maka!_

He needed to find her.

There were no two ways about it: he needed to find her and he needed to _mutilate _the ghastly beast who had taken her away from him in a heartbeat of hesitance.

It didn't matter to him that he could die trying to save her because he would _first _die than let his meister fall victim to a monsters evil cravings.

He ran faster at the thought of her small soul, so fragile and pure, being devoured in the same gruesome way he devoured the souls of astray humans.

It was painful to think something like that would even happen but he had always been one to lay down all the possibilities – even if some of the possibilities caused more grief than reassurance.

He knew it was his fault she was gone: he had been too slow to realize what the Kishin had been up to and thus Maka had fallen right into its trap. He had been slapped out of her hands and she had been picked up by the scruff of her collar and thrown into the light rainfall through a window, the beast hungerly chasing after her.

He followed them seconds after, a fear like no other feeding his muscles to catch up to them.

He wouldn't know what to do if something happened to Maka.

It was something he thought about during long days, but he was never able to come up with an answer. But it was a possibility he had to face sometime – the bad part being that he was being faced with it _now _rather than in the comfort of his own room, with Maka safely studying in her own room.

He saw the brief black outline of the monster up ahead and he paled when he saw the limp body of his meister crash against the edge of a rooftop.

He ran faster, taking a different street in order to regain lost distance.

_I'll never tease her about being a flat-chested bookworm again!_

_I'll never play pranks on her again!_

_I'll kick Blair out for good!_

_I'll do my homework, god, I'll STUDY, just please be okay..._

He sounded pathetic, even in his own head, but he was desperate.

Life without Maka – without his strong-willed, sharp mouthed, intelligent, meister – _was_ no life.

He wouldn't know what to do.

She made everything better; she brought light to his dark and drab life.

"MAKA!" He screamed into the night, pushing around the corner as he followed the beastly thing that still carried her in its pincer hands; searching for a nice place to devour her soul—! "_MAKA!_" He snarled, running faster than he thought he was capable of, and screeching to a halt when the monster swiveled around to face him, black eyes hard on his person. "You're going to pay for this!" Soul hissed, arm transforming into a long, razor-sharp, scythe. "Give Maka back!"

It made a screeching noise in the back of its throat before clutching Maka in both hands, squeezing her. The girl gasped in her unconsciousness, a strangled sound escaping her lips as it began to steadily crush her ribs in.

His eyes widened and before he even had a chance to process what he was doing, he was bolting right for the creature, slashing his blade through its legs before it could even react, and stabbing his other bladed arm into the demons torso, ripping through it violently in a snap of fury-fueled insanity.

It cried in pain and its pincers let Maka go, her limp body crashing to the floor. Soul didn't hesitate to lift her off the wet stone, leaping back with her safe in his arms; a relief like no other draining away his terror.

The monster clicked its pincers together quickly, nursing its injuries. It growled menacingly at having its meal taken from it so crudely.

"Maka! Hey, Maka,wake up!" Soul shook her gently, hand brushing away wet strands of hair from her face. She was pale. He felt that bubble of fear rise up his throat again. "Maka? Maka! Damn it... wake up, you idiot!" He shook her again, more fiercely. His eyes flashed up to the Kishin every few seconds, every muscle in his body taut and ready to spring into action at the slightest sign of movement. "You have to wake up, Maka! Now would be a really good time!"

She moaned weakly, squeezing her eyes shut against the pounding pain in her head.

Good.

She was coming to.

"That's it, wake up." He pleaded, leaning over her to shield her face from being hit by the icy water that came down from the heavens. "Maka?"

Her green eyes slowly opened, focusing on him after a few confused blinks. He saw her clutch her stomach for a second before letting go and allowing the memories of how she came to be in such a situation come back to her. When they did, her eyes widened and she struggled to sit up.

"Don't force yourself." Soul warned softly, helping her up nonetheless.

"What happened?" Maka grunted, glancing around her. They were no longer in the venue where they had found the Kishin – they were outside, in the city, and soaked to the bone by the rain. "Soul?"

"You were separated from me." Soul informed grimly, the terror he felt for his miester's safety a mere memory now. He was more focused on getting her back to her feet and letting him rip through the monster who _dared _to lay a finger on his meister. "I _told _you not to over think things! You see what happens when you don't listen to me? You nearly died, stupid!"

"Shut up, I know!" Maka snapped, holding her pounding head. The thing had smashed her face into the roof of a house when it leaped from building to building. That was what had knocked her out in the first place. And it was going to pay for that, too, as she unsteadily got to her feet. "Soul Eater?" She called, regaining her lost strength quickly.

She was still a little out of it from being knocked out but she could deal.

The other most pressing thing were her ribs but she found that if she didn't bend, the pain was almost ignorable.

She held her hand out, glancing expectantly at him from the corner of her eye.

Soul was still kneeled on the floor, gazing up at her wryly. Despite the beating she took, the way her ponytails were limp on her head, her clothes skewed and frayed from the rough handling, she _still _managed to look authoritative and in control.

She looked even _more_ cool like this, with that fire burning in her moss green eyes.

Soul grinned, taking her hand and transforming into scythe once more. "Ready to kick this things ass, Maka?"

"You bet!" Maka smiled, tightening her hold on him. She fell into stance, narrowing her eyes at the Kishin that growled challengingly at her. "He won't get away a second time. Ready, Soul Eater?"

"When you are!"

"Let's go!"

He vowed from this point on never to let any harm come to his meister, as she tore through the beast and revealed the reward kept inside:

Their twenty-fifth Kishin soul.

* * *

**A.N: **I'll never take internet for granted _ever_ again! My aunt was kind enough to let me borrow her internet card so now I have internet for the next week until I go back home! :D That means I'll be updating like mad, because I like updating insanely fast XD

Happy Holidays!

_Scarlett._


	3. Let Go

**Soul Mix  
by. **_Poisoned Scarlet_

_

* * *

_

**Jam 03: **Let Go by Frou Frou  
_Soul_

"_So, let go, let go  
Just get in  
Oh, it's so amazing here  
It's all right, 'cause there's beauty in the breakdown..."_

* * *

Soul Eater waited around the corner, hands jammed in the deep pockets of his yellow letterman jacket, foot propped up behind him, eyes closed with his chin bowed down to his chest coolly.

He would just wait.

The crazed sun was low on the skyline and soon it would become nightfall.

He knew what would come very soon.

It happened every single time – since the second week of their partnership, when he discovered the broiling issues between daughter and father.

When he heard the rough _thump-thump _of her boots nearing closer, his eyes slipped open and he straightened against the wall, turning his head just in time to see her dashing past him, leaving a trail of dust in her wake as she ran away from her pain.

He came prepared – he's off after her before he could even look down the path she had taken, where her irresponsible father keened over as his mind raced through every single mistake he had committed that evening.

He could care less about that man, though; the man that only brought weakness and shame and pain to his meister.

She wove through a series of corners but he was faithful on her trail, losing sight of her only once but regaining his bearings quickly.

When she finally stopped, they were in a park.

She was sitting on a bench with her knees drawn up to her chin but her shoulders never shook with the tears he knew she wanted to spill. Instead, she stared darkly at the tilting shadow of the water fountain before her, as the crescent moon rose higher and higher in the sky.

"Hey." Soul greeted impassively, coming to a stop a few steps away. His red eyes gazed blankly at her, his hands once again stuffed in the deep reaches of his pockets. He hoped he didn't sound too windblown. That wouldn't be cool.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" Maka asked instead, clutching her knees closer to her chest. "For thinking he'd actually change, I mean."

Soul took this as permission to trespass into her small space. He fell into the seat beside her, sinking into the bench thoughtfully. "No." He answered, not looking at her. He looked at his monstrous yellow shoes instead. "That just means you're willing to give the male race a chance." He half-grinned. "You're willing to change, and that's a good thing."

"I'm not giving men a chance." Maka scoffed, softly. "Don't be dumb."

"Then why do you meet up with him every week?" He challenged.

"Because the judged ordered it so." Maka replied, coldly. "It's in the requirements – my father is allowed weekly visits."

"If you don't want to go, you don't have to go, you know." Soul responded. "You're not forced to meet up with your dad. It's up to you. You have the option."

Maka stayed silent for a second. "I'm still not giving them a chance." Maka mumbled stubbornly into her knees, eyes losing their fire before rekindling with a fiercer flame than ever. "If anything, I'm only more convinced that men are nothing but stupid, lying, cheating, chauvinistic—!"

He grabbed her wrist and twisted her toward him, forcing her wide eyes to stare into his own dark red ones. "Who're you calling a stupid, lying, cheating, chauvinistic pig?" He ended with a sharp grin, leaning closer to her shocked face. "It's not cool to be stupid. It's not cool to lie. It's not cool cheat. And it's definitely _not_ cool to treat girls rudely." His hold on her wrist loosened. "Don't group me with him, Maka, 'cause the last thing I would do is hurt you. I meant what I said that day."

_When we first met, in that Meister-Weapon Convention at Shibusen. _Maka thought to herself. _He promised he wouldn't... _

He leaned back in his seat, letting her digest his words silently.

She did this every time but tonight felt different than any other night.

Maybe tonight would be the night, he silently hoped.

Maybe tonight she would finally trust him and realize he wouldn't misuse it.

He already trusted her wholly – what about herself? He felt the resistance, the wall between them, whenever he became her weapon and she wielded him precisely.

It was the reason they couldn't Soul Resonate.

She kept putting up walls, reenforcing them with her own flawed reasoning.

He kept breaking them down, weakening them with his logic.

But with every broken down wall, another one, a stronger one, rose in its place.

"... I'm sorry..."

He smiled.

Maybe tonight would be the night.

"It's cool."

He felt her hand touch his arm and he looked down to find her fingers clutching the material of his jacket timidly.

She wasn't looking at him, she stared straight ahead resolutely, but he understood what she wanted without words.

He grasped her hand tightly within his own and she squeezed back, letting their hands fall between them like a link.

Trust.

He could almost see the walls crumbling down before his very eyes.


	4. Circus

**Soul Mix  
by. **_Poisoned Scarlet_

* * *

**Jam 04: **Circus by Britney Spears  
_Maka_

"_I feel the adrenaline moving through my veins  
Spotlight on me and I'm ready to break  
I'm like a performer, the dance floor is my stage  
Better be ready, hope you feel the same."_

* * *

Maka picked up her pace, blurring past her peers one at a time, green eyes focused ahead. Her lungs ached for air and her chest was burning, making her steps wobble with exhaustion, but the ripple in her determination steeled at the thought of letting Black Star win, and she was running once more.

She could see Black Star up ahead, laughing triumphantly at being the only one able to surpass his peers.

She barely managed to roll her eyes before closing them again; the track memorized in her head.

This wasn't a competition.

Not really.

So far, she and Black Star were the only ones who were probably worth watching; the rest of the meister's had long since succumbed to their physical debilities.

Maka flashed her eyes open and sprung off the floor with a battle cry.

She delivered a perfect drop-kick to Nygus sensei, who blocked with a cross of her arms. Maka twisted her body around and flipped gracefully back in the air, landing in a cloud of dust on the floor with her heart pounding its way out of her chest.

She barely managed to dodge the kick from Nygus sensei before she was running ahead once more, weaker than before but with just as much stubbornness.

She could hear Black Star cackling victoriously behind her, no doubt pummeling Sid sensei with a flashy move; trying to earn the crowds awe, and succeeding by the way the girls squealed and cheered.

But that wasn't the point of this activity: it was to test a meister's stamina, ability, and skill, all the while trying to understand the lesson the teachers were trying to teach them.

The lesson she had _yet_ to grasp, to her annoyance.

As she ran around the track, coming back to the point of the path where she would have to flash her eyes open again and snap herself out of the unconscious drive forward, she was unnervingly aware of all the sets of eyes on her from the weapons watching in the sidelines.

She was aware of Soul's eyes on her as she skid to a stop and swiped a leg at Nygus, the woman catching it in her hand and twisting her ankle, Maka along with it, although she didn't expect the girl to use this momentum to strike her other foot at her head, hands twisting the earth beneath her palms as she cartwheeled to the side before hightailing straight out of there.

The whole point of the exercise was to run around the track once, attack one of four teachers (Nygus, Sid, and two other physical education teachers) once, before repeating the cycle until they managed to comprehend the lesson.

It would test their capabilities by testing their stamina as well as how they worked under pressurized circumstances.

Eventually they would tire, as Maka felt exhausted now (it being her tenth time around the track), and it was then that their pass or fail would be determined. A lot of students had already failed the lesson, and Maka was adamant on not becoming one of them.

She _needed_ to get the lesson they were trying to teach her! It wasn't a matter of beating Black Star anymore (not really...), it was simply _infuriating _that she, top student Maka Albarn, was unable to grasp the lesson. Who was she, to not be able to understand a simple concept? It pissed her off that she was coming up with blanks to their riddle-like words.

"_HAAAAHHH_!" Maka cried fiercely, yanking her fist back and thrusting it forward powerfully, only to have it blocked by Nygus' own hand.

Maka growled in the back of her throat when the woman threw her to the side, a twinkle in her black eyes as Maka continued down the track with a scowl on her face.

She paced herself now.

She felt tired and that would not do, so she jogged this time around, breathing in controlled breaths as Black Star laughingly blurred past her, attacking Sid sensei with an exaggerated battle cry that made a slight grin twitch on her lips.

She had to admit, all things considered, this _was _a little fun – it would be better if no one else, especially their weapons, were watching, but Maka guessed not everything could be given to her, as she opened her eyes once more when she neared Nygus.

The woman prepared to defend but blinked when Maka merely raced past her.

Maka sprung into the air to deliver a roundhouse kick at her backside.

She was growing tired of this tedious cycle – she wanted to end it once and for all! – as her mind raced with all the possibilities of _what _they were trying to teach them...nothing seemed to make sense. They ran, fought, and ran again. She couldn't connect the dots - at least, not yet. She would, though, _eventually_...

Maybe beating up the teacher was the whole point – if so, then Black Star was _way _ahead of her...

"Well, now!" Nygus shouted, pivoting on her heel to block the attack. It was the first time she had spoken and Maka felt all eyes on them as she hung in mid air for a split second. "Not playing very fair, are we, Miss Albarn?"

"There is no such thing as fair—!" Maka harshly panted, falling on her hands and flipping out of the way in a whirl of color. "When it comes down to a fight!" She was about to go ahead and run down the track again, face hot with exertion, when Nygus' voice stopped her.

"Maka."

She braked to a stop a couple of feet away, panting heavily. "Yeah?"

"You can stop now." Nygus stood straight, and a few teachers turned their attention to them. "I think you understand what we're trying to teach you. You pass." The corners of the knife-weapon's eyes crinkled with what Maka assumed was a smile. "Congratulations. You have a whole week of physical education off!"

Maka stared dumbly for a second. "...What?" She had somehow understood the lesson...without _actually _understanding what this entire routine had been all about?

Did she have luck or what?

"EHHH?" Black Star jumped between them, pointing accusingly at Nygus. "What'd'ya mean she's got_ o__ne whole week_ of PE off?"

Maka just stood there, looking a little lost.

"Well, Black Star." Nygus' voice steeled, no longer soft. "Maka learned the meaning of the lesson. You have not. Therefore, she may leave but you may not."

"But – but – !"

"Black Star! Never take your eyes off your opponent!" Sid careened into the gobsmacked assassin, as Maka's exhaustion caught up with her and she buckled to the floor on her haunches, head hung as she tried to give her lungs the air they rightfully deserved.

Almost immediately, a hand was placed reassuringly on her back, and Maka needn't look up to know that Soul was kneeling beside her.

He was grinning when she rose her head, and she managed a triumphant grin of her own.

"You _actually _beat Black Star in sports!" Soul exclaimed, red eyes showing more emotion than they had in a whole week of school. It was rare to see Soul so excited within school grounds. She knew the onlookers were shocked to see him so jubilant all of a sudden even though it wasn't anything new to her. "He's never gonna' live this down!" He sniggered.

"It's not my fault I'm just that good!" Maka laughed, as she saw Black Star race around the track in less than four seconds and attack Sid again. "He's never going to get it that way." She sighed.

Soul grinned, crookedly. "Not bad, Maka. It only took you _twelve _times."

"I'd like to see you try to pass it in less!" Maka snapped, annoyed by his jab.

"No, thanks, I'll pass." He smirked. "I'd rather be the one watching you kick Black Star's ass than be the one doing it. His punches hurt."

"No kidding." Maka muttered, wincing as she stretched out a cramping leg. "You're lucky I don't care how I look like after he punches me, Soul!" She had only gotten punched a few times by him. Even if they were all meant with good intentions, they still _hurt _and left bruises.

"That's what makes you such a cool partner!"

She only responded with a happy beam that made him roll his eyes and motion for the locker rooms.

"C'mon, go shower already." He wrinkled his nose and leaned away from her. His eyes danced with mirth as he shouted, loud enough for the other weapons to hear: "You _stink_!"

"You jerk!" Maka hissed, when she saw some girls giggle at her. Soul was holding back laughter at her pink cheeks. "That's it! MAKA _CHOP!_"

"Wait! Where did you get tha—NGH!"

Maka stormed toward the locker rooms, book tucked under arm as Soul groaned from his place on the floor.

Some things never changed...

* * *

**A.N: **They're pretty young here... Yeah, Soul still has that flashy letterman jacket and Black Star is still obnoxiously loud. He gets better, in the manga, anyway...

_Scarlett._


	5. Carry Me Through

**Soul Mix  
by. **_Poisoned Scarlet_

* * *

**Jam 05: **Crawling (Carry Me Through) by Superchick  
_Maka_

"_How long will this take?  
How much can I go through?  
My heart, my soul aches  
I don't know what to do  
I bend, but don't break"_

* * *

"The book? Where is it?" He snarled, holding her against the wall by the neck. She gripped his hand, desperate to find a foothold to keep from choking. The heel of her foot only slid down shredded wallpaper, and she heard herself pitifully groan when his fingers dug into the soft muscles of her neck. "I'll ask you again: where did you DWMA scum hide the book?"

"I—don't know!" Maka wheezed, only to be slammed against the wall by her neck like an animal.

"Don't play with me, girl." He hissed, his brown eyes crackling with malice. "I know you took the book – I _saw_ you." His voice edged on a growl, like a bear.

Maka believed this man's magic dealt with bears, and if that wasn't bad enough, the way his nails seemed to grow out of his fingers and puncture her neck made the panic that had steadily been welling in her gut reach dangerous levels.

She couldn't attack being held like this; she was helpless and she loathed it.

She was self-sufficient enough to complete part of the dangerous mission. Her main objective had been to simply hide the book and wait for her comrades to arrive so they may handle the gory fighting. Somehow, unsurprisingly, that plan had backfired, because he had found her skulking around the back of the mansion and flung her inside savagely; all the while howling for the location of the book.

Black Star and Tsubaki would take hours to reach her: this wizard's magic was advanced, dangerous, and he knew how to wield it expertly. She had no doubt that he had already set out traps and wards around the dilapidated mansion they were at, all the way on the fourth floor, in a room with white sheets thrown over furniture to keep the dust at bay.

She also had reason to believe this would be her grave, pinned against a cracked wall, with her hazy green eyes fixed on that one spot on the ceiling – the one where the paint had started to peel...

"This is the final time I'll ask you, _girl_." He warned, showing her a glimpse of his sharp teeth as he did. He looked furious, panicked even, and Maka spitefully thought he deserved it, since she would first die than reveal where she had stashed that dangerous book.

Only Tsubaki would know.

In fact, as Maka wheezed in a breath, one eye shut in pain as she tried to ignore the hot blood that ran down her neck, she was sure that the girl had already retrieved the book and was beginning her journey back to Shibusen with her meister - not knowing she hadn't kept her promised of fleeing the scene after she hid it. The wizard hadn't been present when she took and hid the book in the arranged location - he had popped up half an hour too early.

Which was why it would take them hours to find her, since they had no idea she was still inhabiting the mansion they had been raiding.

That book would be the downfall of DWMA if it ever got in the hands of evil wizards or witches. The book held spells, powerful chants and scriptures, that could affect not just small towns but large cities and populace in fractions of seconds. It held the deadliest of spells, the darkest and most potent of potions; the book itself emitted a malevolent aura, like that of insanity.

The mission she had been assigned was suicidal at worst, fame-bringing at best, but Maka had been more concerned with the fact that if someone didn't retrieve the book from their greedy hands, DWMA would suffer a blow that would waver the otherwise strong infrastructure.

And no one else had been willing - or nearby - to take it.

Needless to say, when she heard the news, she had almost immediately stormed into the Death Room to take on the mission. Although Lord Death had stressed the importance that she did _not _have to go, since she was weaponless, she had, because it was her duty as a DWMA student.

It was her duty as a protector of the innocents – humans, and any other helpless and pure creature who needed their help.

She had promised the Death God Black Star and Tsubaki would aid her, handle the dirty stuff, since they had been contacted hours prior and were on their way. All she had to do was sneak in, hide the book, and sneak out; give them the advantage. It was like a recon mission - only with a chillingly low survival rate.

It was just the _stupid _wizard, who had to arrive half an hour before she expected him to.

Apparently, witch masses weren't as long as before...

"_Where_... is the book, Maka Albarn?"

Maka felt, for lack of better word, numb. She didn't mind dying for DWMA but doing it was a _totally_ different thing altogether. But, in fact, she didn't mind dying in general. She had mentally prepared herself for this a long time ago; since Soul had gotten that nasty injury on his chest. She had no qualms staring into the eyes of the mad wizard and spitting out: "Lord Death should have it in his hands by now!"

But she _did_ morbidly wish she could have died for Soul – that would've been the _best_ death in the world for her.

To die for the one you loved.

"You—!" His nostrils flared, brown eyes flaming with a fury that made her tremble, and she barely had time to scream before he slammed her into the wall again. He slammed her into the wall until her back had broken through it, her prone body flung into the deep darkness of the room next door.

Her shoulder was broken: she couldn't move it without having it grind in protest.

The back of her neck was bleeding heavily – the brick must've ground right into her skull, by the way her eyes kept hazing in and out and the blood that trickled down her torn up Spartoí uniform began to pool on the dusty floor.

She lost a glove somewhere during all of this – a tremulous finger clawed at the hardwood, a few more joining until she could keep them still enough on the floor.

Soul would be angry – furious, _livid_ – with her if he found out, which he surely would the instant her death reached their ears. But she supposed it didn't really matter in the end. He wasn't hers to scold or train anymore. He _hadn't_ been hers since she converted him into a Deathscythe, and she supposed that was the only regret she could think of, while being hidden under layers of shadows.

She hadn't seen him in nearly a month, barely spoke to him in the weeks before that, because his new career prevented it.

They still talked; whenever she caught him she tried to extend their conversations to more than just ten minutes, and even though they still lived together he hardly spent time in their apartment since he was out conducting missions and meeting up with other Deathscythes for special training.

But she guessed, since Deathscythes were such rarities nowadays, she shouldn't be surprised.

It was _her_ fault she had gone against her personal code and fallen in love with him.

It was _her_ fault she had placed him in that special training regiment – handed him over to strangers, for them to train and not herself anymore.

She promised him he would be the best Deathscythe – the strongest, the most-wanted, the _coolest_.

Some sacrifices needed to be made in order to _become _the best, and that meant painful and tortuously slow separation from her treasured weapon.

"You'll pay for that – you ruined _everything_! Everything!" The wizard roared, sounding more like a bear now that his fury escaped its restraints. "I'll kill you – I'll splatter your body all over the wall for those DWMA students to see! I'll show them just what happens when you cross one of the Blackwell wizards!" He rose his hand, chanting something sinister under his breath.

Maka's eyes widened, catching the crackling purple light that was being built in his palms, and she desperately looked around, using every last strand of energy she had to crawl away from him.

Her nails chipped under the force of her own lunges, strangled wheezes escaping her throat as she slowly dragged herself away from the wizard, who chuckled darkly at her feeble attempts at escape.

But she had to try.

She didn't want to be known as the girl who practically saved DWMA from a witch attack but died a pathetic death.

She still had a reputation to uphold.

Teeth grinding against one another, Maka hoarsely cried out and forced herself to sit on her knees, body hunched over and exhausted from such a rash move. Now all she had to do was pick herself up and somehow manage to run down the hall; she could topple down the stairs for all she cared but she needed to leave the claustrophobic room.

She coughed when she tried to stand, her ribs screaming in protest, and a sticky blob of blood dribbled to the floor as her body wracked with more coughs.

She stared at the spreading pool of red with horror.

She was losing way too much blood—!

Maka snapped her head up, darting lake green eyes to the shut door. Her only exit – unreachable because of the coughs and pain that shook her body up weak.

But her Soul Perception was still functioning and she _knew_ that soul wavelength anywhere.

_YOU IDIOT! _She wanted to bellow but the wizard had finished his chant, and was now aiming a purple ball of energy at her.

"Demon Scythe Meister, Maka Albarn..." He distastefully began, gliding forward until the crackling ball was above her; at point-blank range. "I'll take joy feeding the remnants of your soul to my Kishin's."

Maka hacked, willing herself not to pass out; not yet. "It doesn't—matter..." She weakly said, feeling her world tip on its axis. "DWMA is... safe..." _from idiots like you, _she mentally added, conveying the sentiment through burning jade eyes.

"Dying for such a judgmental and pathetic organization like the DWMA! I pity you!" And he spread his hand wider, readying to release the blow that would tear apart her body; leaving behind her small, angelic, soul.

Her heart ached.

Was this really it?

"MAKA!" The door burst open, and the wizard barely had time to turn before a lean figure tackled him to the floor, the massive ball of energy sling-shooting into the ceiling.

Maka stared at the caving ceiling dismally. "... Soul, you idiot—" was all she managed, before part of the ceiling collapsed on them.

* * *

The next time she awoke, it was because her ears had popped and her own ragged breathing was annoying her. But then she found out it wasn't _her_ ragged breathing, but someone else's; someone with snow white hair and crimson eyes, that was saying something to her she couldn't hear because her ears were still ringing from the loud cracks of breaking wood and brick.

Her lips parted, words wishing to be said, but all that came out was something thick and hot and slimy.

Blood.

Her eyes crossed and she gave into her weakness.

When they opened again, she was staring at Professor Stein's glaring glasses; surrounded in a room of a white so pure it stung her eyes. She was faintly aware that she was strapped down on the table and someone was jabbing needles into her arms, an annoying beeping telling her that her heart rate was too slow to be normal.

"Maka." His voice sounded distorted; off. "Can you hear me? Maka!"

She stared back, unable to form sentences, breathing hard through her mouth.

The coppery tang on her tongue made her stomach turn.

Had she really made it?

_Soul..._

She was a little blown away that she was still _alive._

"Can you speak?"

She didn't even try to move her mouth. Instead, her eyes shifted to stare at the ceiling that danced with shadows and smoke. She absently wondered what time it was and if Soul had eaten dinner yet before her eyes slid shut once more, too tired to stay awake any longer.

The next time she awoke, she felt stiff and cold, but she did not fall back under those calm waters despite their pull. Instead, Maka turned her head to look outside, the sun high in the sky.

She wondered what time it was, or better yet what _day _it was, as she looked the other way to the door.

Maka tried to sit up but the instant she did, her shoulder hissed in dulled pain.

"Ah!" Maka sucked in a sharp breath, bringing a shaky hand to grip her broken shoulder. She felt the cast underneath her finger tips and felt panic well in her gut. Her eyes desperately searched what other damage had been done to her body, as her fingers tremulously traced down her face.

Her nails caught on bandages and she patted those down quickly, discovering they basically wrapped around her skull. A band-aid stuck on her cheek, scratches and scrapes decorating her arms like sick runes, and everything ached with a vengeance.

Just how much damage had been inflicted on her?

The door opened and Maka was startled to see Professor Stein walk in, the side of his mouth quirking up at the sight of the bewildered meister. "Nice of you join us today, Maka."

"Professor Stein." Her voice was raspy and hoarse; so unlike her usual perky and high one. How long had she been asleep? "What happened? What time is it? Where am I?"

"Aren't you full of questions today." Stein leaned over her and checked her eyes, turning her head this way and that before checking up on her other injuries briefly. "Does it hurt anywhere?"

"N-no..." Maka touched her shoulder absently. "What happened, Professor Stein?"

"The mission was a success although you came very close to death." Stein explained. He paused. "We lost you once during surgery. Your shoulder and collar bone were broken and needed to be fixed immediately. You also had some internal injuries I took care of."

Maka froze.

At her unresponsive form, Stein added: "Don't worry, we brought you back!" As if that would change the fact that she had basically _died_.

"Wh...what about Soul?" Maka asked, some of her panic squeezing into her words. "Is he okay? Where is he right now?"

A smile ghosted the professors lips. "I would be more concerned about yourself than him, Maka. He's physically fine."

"Physically?"

_It's a relief she was able to pick up on that, _Stein quietly thought, shoulders sagging in relief. _There seems to be no cognitive damage after such a blow to her skull. _"I could not say the same emotionally – perhaps I shouldn't have sent him back home yesterday. But we had no idea that you would wake up so soon."

"He... stayed with me?"

"Yes, faithfully for the past two weeks and leaving your side only for bathroom breaks." He added, humorously.

"Two weeks?" Maka squeaked, aghast. "I've been out for _two weeks_?"

"Technically in comatose state. I deemed you too fragile to stay awake and thus induced a coma in order for you to heal faster." Stein corrected professionally. "You're lucky senpai wasn't allowed in here for the first week or else he would've crushed you with his exaggerated embraces and provoked unnecessary stress on your body."

"Papa..." Maka murmured. She never thought she'd say this but she missed her papa. "How is he right now?"

"He's only visited the club two times since news of your hospitalization reached him." Stein revealed quietly. Maka's lips pressed together in disapproval. "He has been visiting every day since he was permitted access to your room, though."

Maka nodded in understanding, taking a deep breath. She felt exhausted and tired; her eyes sore and scratchy. Her stomach felt hallowed out and sour but her ears could pick up the sound of a pin falling on the floor; unlike before, when everything had been a nagging ringing.

"Do you feel dizzy? Nauseous?" Stein queried. "Any sensitivity? Numbness?" He prodded a few places on her body with his pen, which she must've responded rightly since he nodded his head in approval.

"Tired." She answered instead, raising her good hand to rub her eyes out. "And hungry."

"Good." Stein nodded, reaching into his inner pocket to pull out her chart. He jotted something down, murmuring some medical jargon she couldn't understand even if she wanted to.

"... training a stupid octopus head like you! You should be grateful I even agreed!" Spirit exclaimed aggressively. Maka watched, with a weary smile, as her papa and Soul walked through the door, the latter looking dangerously close to gutting her father.

"Oh. Hello senpai, Soul. Would you please lower your voices? Maka's hearing is still fairly sensitive, isn't that right, Maka?"

Spirit froze and Maka watched as Soul stared at her, immobile as well. His eyes were wide with disbelief, relief and gratefulness, while her father gaped like a fish.

She was dryly relieved Soul could handle his emotions better than her exaggerated papa...

"Hey." Maka greeted meekly, clearing her hoarse throat. She flinched when that induced a cough, her raw throat making itself known. She was surprised to find Soul immediately by her side, rubbing soothing circles into her back in concern.

"Hey, don't force yourself. You just woke up!"

"MAKAAA!" Spirit wailed, shoving Soul out of the way to squish his daughter to his chest. Maka squeaked, shutting an eye in pain at her tender shoulder - her tender _body;_ everything hurt brutally! But she sucked it up, for the sake of Soul and her papa, who whispered just how scared he had been for her for the past two weeks.

And it showed in his disheveled hair, crooked clothes, and exhausted eyes. It looked as if he hadn't slept and shaved in days, too.

"Senpai." Stein pulled him off of her firmly. "I would advise to restrain from any physical contact with her – her body is still in a delicate state right now and any slight alterations could trigger a dangerous reaction."

Spirit sniffed wetly. "Be honest with me, doc, is she gonna' be okay?"

Stein nodded, boredly. "Yes, she is healing nicely. Her scars should heal well, too, if she applies the ointment I prescribed daily."

Spirit croaked out: "O-okay..." before he slumped unconscious against the doctor.

"Papa!" Maka called in alarm.

"Don't stress yourself, Maka." Stein smiled, holding her papa up by the cuff. "I'll be sure to take very good care of him..." He creepily grinned, gliding out of the door with her papa dragging behind him. "Don't take too long, Soul, she needs her rest!" Stein remembered to say, before disappearing from sight.

Maka finally turned to Soul. He stood beside her, stone-faced and silent, staring at his shoes with something close to apathy.

"S...Soul?" Maka whispered, timidly. He snapped his head up at the sound of her voice. She forced on a smile. "Professor Stein told me that you've been by my side for the past two weeks..."

"He ordered me to leave yesterday." He answered, neutrally.

"Yeah...he told me that, too." Maka shifted her eyes to her sheets. "...Um..."

"Why."

Maka flinched at the barely-contained fury that underlined the word.

"... No one else would take the mission." Maka finally said. "And time was running out – I had no choice but to accept it—!"

"You _always _have a choice!" Soul harshly spat. "You're a fucking idiot, you know that? For someone who's the top student in Shibusen, you're a _real_ fucking moron!"

Maka sucked in a sharp breath at his tone. "_I'm _a moron for doing what I was trained to do?" Maka snapped. "It's my job as a student of DWMA to obey Lord Death's orders! I was only doing what I was supposed to do!"

"You were just trying to be a hero!" He accused, furiously. "Just because you're one of the best meister's this school has to offer doesn't mean you can suddenly take on a wizard _without a weapon!_"

"NO ONE ELSE WOULD TAKE THE MISSION BUT ME!" Maka bellowed fiercely. "Black Star and Tsubaki would be back too late from their own assignment to prevent the wizard from reciting the chants! All of the other weapons who _could _go with me were too weak. If I hadn't intervened when I had, then DWMA would be overrun with Kishin and witches alike at this very moment!" Maka took a breath, willing her heart to calm; it would make her stomach hurt if she didn't. "That's how powerful that book was!"

"Why didn't you wait for me?" Soul asked, ignoring her rant. "If you had just _waited _for me, this would have never happened!"

"Because you have your _own_ agenda now!" Maka shouted, as if it were obvious. "You're not mine to wield anymore, Soul, you're a Deathscythe now – you have other things to worry about than me! You were on an official assignment and I couldn't just take you away from that! Even if I wanted to, you were too far away! That's why!"

Soul ground his teeth, denting the metal railing that kept her in the bed with his hands. "You nearly died back there. Stein almost lost you. How many more near-death experiences do you have to go through before you understand you're not invincible?"

"I _know _I'm not invincible." Maka quietly said, dropping her eyes to her sheets miserably. "I knew it was risky and reckless to take on a mission with such a small survival rate but it's my _duty_, Soul. I've already converted you into a Deathscythe... This is what I'm supposed to do now."

"So, what?" Soul laughed, harshly. "It's your job now to go out there and kill yourself whenever you can?"

"No! It's not..." Maka was silent for a second, feeling the last band of restraint around her emotions snap. "... B-but I was ready to die." Her voice cracked.

Soul didn't respond, but his face had gone ashy white.

She could feel the disbelief and shock begin to spill free, as she gripped the sheets tightly in her hand to hold onto something. Her shoulders shook, paining her because her broken shoulder was starting to throb unbearably, and her bottom lip quivered as the realization of _dying _crashed into her; numbing her in a wave of gratefulness and grief. She was grateful she was alive, but terribly aggrieved she had nearly lost everything. Everyone.

She almost died.

She _had _died – then been revived by Professor Stein.

It was different this time; different than all the other times. For one, her weapon hadn't been with her. And she had had enough time to dwell on that, to really understand she would die. Her breaths quaked in her chest as tears guttered down her cheeks. It was so very different this time. She ducked her head to hide her tears, raising a shaky hand to cover her face as sobs wracked her body.

A hand rested on her back and she felt Soul shift, bring her closer to him and offering silent comfort. Despite the horrible pain in her shoulder, she wrapped her good arm around his neck and buried her face there, crying like she had never cried before and somehow feeling assured that, even if he wasn't hers to wield and train anymore, he would always remain a vital facet in her life.

"You idiot...idiot, idiot, idiot..." Soul shakily breathed out. He cradled her head closer to him, finally relaxed against her as the fact that she was alive and breathing set in his exhausted mind. "Never do that to me again, got it? _Never_ do that..." He leaned forward, pulling her face up to face him. She was surprised to see how agonized he looked, his eyes distraught pits of scarlet as he pressed his lips on her forehead. "I really thought I lost you..." He whispered. "I honestly thought you...you _died..._"

Maka lowered her eyes guiltily. "I'm sorry..."

Soul breathed out a chuckle. He pressed his lips against the corner of her mouth this time, shocking her stiff. "I forgave you the instant you came back alive." He confessed, lips still pressed against the edge of her mouth. "... I'm not going to Baltimore for Deathscythe training anymore, and I'm not going on another mission unless you're my meister."

Maka gasped, stomach plummeting to her ankles. "Wh-what? No, Soul, you can't do that—!"

"I can." Soul stated, with a slight smirk. "Lord Death approved it."

She was baffled. There was absolutely no way Soul could refuse Deathscythe training – the training she, herself, had put him in for his own sake. He was simply too valuable now to have his way. Why would Lord Death let such a powerful and potential Deathscythe slip from his grasp? "No...No, Soul, you can't. You _have_ to go to Baltimore for Deathscythe training and you _have _to take the assignments Lord Death gives you!" She pushed him back, making him frown. "I _made_ you into the Deathscythe for these reasons! I'm not going to let all my hard work go to waste just because of a stupid accident!"

"You _aren't _going to throw your hard work down the drain, idiot, let me finish!" Soul snapped. She glared at him. To avoid his own searing gaze, she shifted her eyes away and pretended the heart-rate monitor beside her wasn't going haywire with her heartbeat.

She slipped off the device clamped around her finger discreetly, making the monitor go dead.

"I'm not going to Baltimore because Spirit is gonna' be training me here in Death City, and _you're_ going to accompany me on whatever missions I have to take." He caught her gaze, so wide and green; the luminescent color he had longed to see for two whole weeks. "So my duties as a Deathscythe will be fulfilled either way."

"P-Papa is going to be training you?"

"Yeah."

"A-and I'm... going to be your meister after all?"

"Yep." Soul rolled his eyes at her wondrous face. "Apparently, you become an even _bigger_ idiot than Black Star when you don't have an ambition, so from now on your new goal is to complete all three thousand hours of missions I have to complete before I could pass and become an official Deathscythe."

"Three thousand...?" Maka paled.

"Yep. Three thousand." Soul grinned at her horror. "Plus an extra hundred hours of office work."

"T-three...three..." Maka groaned pitifully, slumping against his chest with disbelief. "Three _thousand_? Are you sure you heard right? That's _a lot _and you don't even get assigned all that many missions! You're mostly training!"

"I guess we'll be seeing each other a lot, just like old times." Soul smirked, tilting his head and cradling her cheek in his palm. He gently pushed her head back, placing one last kiss on her forehead, and chuckled when she grunted and tried to back away from him like a child; flushed and no doubt unused to such treatment.

He'd make sure she _got_ used to it, since he was going to be _doing _it a lot more often.

The thought of losing her was painful, but actually losing her had been beyond agonizing.

And realizing how fragile life actually was had been frustrating, since he had been unable to comprehend just how simple it was to end a life even though he took it nearly every week when he went on missions.

He'd be damned if he continued to be pulled away from her – he'd rather get his guts dissected out of him alive than continue to put a rift between them, continue to bottle up the feelings and praises and admiration he never once breathed a word to her of because he had been hung up on the fact that it wouldn't be _cool_.

Maka had been on the brink of asking him _why _he kissed her forehead like her mama used to do when the door burst open to reveal a silly smiling Professor Stein.

"According to the monitor in my office, Maka, you have officially died approximately two minutes ago." Stein casually walked to her bedside, both young adults watching him with wide eyes, and he clamped the device back on her finger; her erratically pounding heart coming alive. "And now you're alive again! I suggest you stop trying to die, Maka, it isn't very healthy for my blood pressure when your heart stops beating."

"R-right." Maka stuttered, flushing darker when she heard Soul stifle snickers at her wayward heart. "It won't happen again, Professor..."

"Good." Stein produced a syringe from his pocket. He grinned brightly. "Nap time!"

"HUH?" Maka choked, her heart beat off the charts now. "Wh-what is that? Professor!"

"Soul, hold her down for me."

"No problem, doc." Soul slid an around her back carefully, pulling her close to him but simultaneously keeping her still.

"W-wait! No! You traitor!" Maka shot Soul a mean look he shrugged away innocently.

"He's the one who gives out the grades, Maka," was Soul's award-winning excuse.

"Just wait until we get home, Soul—wait! I don't need —get that thing _away _from me—_ouch!_" Maka whimpered when the needle sunk into her arm and the drug began to spread through her body. She snatched her arm from Stein's grasp with a glare. "What is _that _for in the first place?"

"Oh, knocking you out for a few hours should reduce the emotional strain on your body." Stein airily stated. "And keep Spirit from suffocating you with questions once he wakes up."

"Damn you, papa, I hate you..." Maka moaned, starting to feel drowsy. She was sure, as Soul began to pop question after question regarding her health to Stein, that only a few seconds had passed yet she already felt at the brink of sleep; her eye lids felt as heavy as lead and her vision crossed in response.

"Why don't we take this outside, Soul?" She vaguely heard Stein suggest. "It seems the sedatives have kicked in."

"Ah. Alright." She felt his arm carefully pull away and his warmth leave. Although she wanted to bring him back and cuddle against him, her body was too weakened by the drugs to properly move.

She ended up mumbling something incoherent before even her lips failed her.

But she was sure the last thing she saw was Soul's soft smile before her eyes slid shut.

* * *

"_...and somehow I'll get through  
'Cause I have you..."_

* * *

**A.N: **This was a scraped idea of mine, written long ago. It was supposed to be longer, with the intent of having some action laced with romance, but eventually I discovered I had nowhere to take this to and I deleted most of it and rewrote it as this.

Not too shabby, if I do say so myself.

_Scarlett._


	6. This is Halloween

**Soul Mix  
by. **_Poisoned Scarlet_

**Jam 06: **This is Halloween by KoRn  
_Maka  
_

"_Life's no fun without a good scare  
That's our job, but we're not mean  
This, our job, in Halloween..."_

* * *

"MAKA!"

She clutched her stomach, just barely withholding a retch. She didn't spare a glance at the concerned reflection of Soul, instead focusing on the meister that had escaped prison a few days ago, and who had aimed a good punch at her stomach.

"You ain't gonna' send me back to that hell hole, lil' missy." The runaway meister grinned, cracking his knuckles. "I hate hittin' girls, but you're not much to look at anyways. Nothin' a couple of bruises can't fix, though." He mocked.

Maka felt her anger spike, her lip lifting in a sneer before she was darting toward him, raising Soul high and putting as much muscle power into the attack as she could.

The nerve of him!

She wasn't as plain as she had been a year ago – for one, it was kind of _obvious _she had boobs. They were not massive like Blair's or Patty's but they were enough to please, so Maka had no reason to complain.

Besides, having breasts the size of melons seemed inconvenient when fighting...

Maka shoved the heel of her boot into his neck, pinning him to the floor as she slammed her scythe into the rocky ground beside his head. She loomed over him dangerously, a dark smirk grazing her lips just as her eyes sparkled a fatal lime green.

"You shouldn't have said that." She tossed Soul to her other hand, flipping him upside down and allowing the curve of his blade to line up with his neck.

"You _really _shouldn't have said that." Soul added, snickering to himself at how petrified the meister looked; cornered, as any slight move would prove to be his end.

"I-I..." The man gulped, wide-eyed and pale. "Y-you can't kill me! Ya'll DWMA stu'n't's are only allowed to kill Kishin'! I ain't a Kishin!"

"Yeah..." Maka leaned forward, her foot digging painfully into his neck. It was getting harder to breathe now. She grinned, the smile as sharp as knives. He could feel all the color drain from his face at the sight of it; she was terrifying. "But they don't know that."

He let out a rather girly squeak that made Soul stifle laughter.

"You ready to see the light at the end of the tunnel, Jimmy McCormick?" Maka asked rhetorically, swaying her scythe to the side. Right before letting it sway back to ultimately slit his throat, the man shrieked and begged, eyes shut as tears accumulated in his eyes. The pathetic sight only made her smile widen. "Your soul is mine."

Soul couldn't help it: he burst into a fit of hysterics.

Maka growled at his obnoxious laughter; mood officially ruined.

"Damn it, Soul!" Maka snapped. "How the hell am I supposed to be the Grim Reaper for Halloween if you keep laughing at me?"

"Are you kidding me?" Soul choked out. "That was the cheesiest thing I've ever heard! Way to rip off a cheap slasher-flick, Maka!" He burst out laughing again, clutching his stomach.

Maka puffed her cheeks out, face warming in embarrassment. The man below her peeked through the gaps of his fingers when he still felt his head on his neck. No longer were her eyes menacing pits of sickly green but normal viridian. She was scowling, no longer wearing that absolutely terrifying grin of sadism, and whatever bloodthirstiness she had emitted was long gone and replaced with irritation.

"As if _you_ could do any better!" Maka shouted.

Soul rose to the challenge challenge, leering at her through the reflection on the scythe blade. "You wanna' bet?"

"You're on!"

Soul diverged from the scythe, the renegade meister gaping as the boy leaned over him with only his upper body, and bared his teeth at him. They were serrated, sharp, things; like those of a demon. The meister thought, with a drop of his stomach, just _what _the DWMA was _training _before the boy fixed dangerous, hungry, scarlet eyes into his own wide and paralyzed ones. His eyes were even more frightening than the girls; like chips of hardened ruby under the slant of moonlight. The saliva that dripped off each jagged tooth, revealing his hunger, and the tongue that licked his lips was all the poor meister's heart could take in a day.

"Boo."

"WHAAA-HAAAAHHH!" He shrieked, curling into a trembling ball.

Soul smugly looked at Maka, who was shaking in rage.

"You were _saying?_"

"Oh, shut up!" Maka bit, cursing off to the side from being proved wrong. "The only reason you're scary is because of your stupid teeth!"

"So?" His grin only grew haughtier. He ran his tongue over them."They're cool. Admit it."

"Whatever!" Maka scoffed, as Soul transformed back into a full-length scythe. "C'mon, Mister McCormick, you have to go back to prison now."

"L-like hell am I goin' with you freaks!" He exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at both. He scrambled back desperately, blood pounding in his ears. "Ya'll eat me or somethin'!"

Maka sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Mister McCormick, I'm _really_ not in the mood to argue with you right now. If you would just come peacefully, I won't have to disable you."

"Ya'll gonna' have'ta make—!"

"_I said __now__." _Maka hissed, green eyes glittering murderously.

Jimmy shut up instantly.

Soul stared at her. "...You know, if you could hold that look for a _little _bit longer, you might _actually _be able to pull off being the Grim Reaper."

"...Soul?"

"Yeah?"

"You're eating out tonight."

"Say _what_? What the hell did I—!"

"C'mon, Mister McCormick!"

"Y-yes, sir—ma'am!"

Soul groaned.

He actually meant that as a compliment – of course she'd take it the wrong way!


	7. Everything

**Soul Mix  
by. **_Poisoned Scarlet_

**Jam 07: **Everything by Lifehouse  
_Soul_

"_You are the strength that keeps me walking  
You are the hope that keeps me trusting  
You are the light to my soul  
You are my purpose, my everything..."_

* * *

It's a pity,  
or a blessing.

A tragedy,  
or a miracle.

_She doesn't understand, does she...?_

She doesn't understand his devotion, the tragic love he harbors in his chest.

She doesn't understand it's only been her, it will _always_ be her, and she doesn't quite understand the insanity one can derive from such a seductive, sly and lying emotion.

She doesn't understand how he can use himself for her sake; how he can fling himself in front of anything and everything that may harm her and smile.

She doesn't understand how one could be willing to give their life, their essence, their soul, their _mind_, for another person - for _her_.

She doesn't understand that type of sacrifice.

She doesn't understand how ones head could be filled with scraps of just _one_ person; scraps that torture, scraps that soothe, scraps that _burn _simultaneously_._

She doesn't understand there is no remedy for this type of adoration, this type of unhealthy worship, because he doesn't quite know how to cure it himself.

And he doesn't want to, either.

But she'll understand that soon enough.

She'll understand the painful twist, the stab in the gut, the incessant thoughts, the constant dreams, the sweaty hands, the choking heat, the agonizing yearn.

The heady desire to touch, to graze, to breathe, to _watch_.

She's a smart girl; she'll comprehend the whirlwind of sensations.

But she's a fragile girl.

She'll be scared, frightened. That scar, the one she bears since she was a little girl, will reopen just a little bit; give a bittersweet ache to the desire that will fuel her actions, her thoughts.

She'll back away, flinch, perhaps even cringe, away from his affections, and he told himself it would be okay when that happened; that he could deal with it, he would wait for her, he would do anything for her.

Because she's Maka and she's his meister and he _loves _his meister.

She's special; she's full of surprises.

He doesn't understand it himself at first, when she casts her eyes to the floor and squeezes them shut in dreadful anticipation.

When she fidgets with her skirt, her breath baited.

When she doesn't dare move, afraid to disrupt the air between them.

It takes his mind a moment to process it, even longer for his heart to catch up with what has just happened.

The silence is suffocating; a thick cloud that makes it harder to breathe, makes it harder to react like he should, like he's _wanted_ to for such a long time.

But he reaches for her after several agonizing seconds – and suddenly, the yearning is quenched.

The sear is cooled, the burn is soothed, the desire is tamed, and the wound is healed.

She will never be able to understand the depth of his fixation; of his obsession for her.

He realizes this one sweltering night, awake in bed and staring at the ceiling because another nightmare, another sick dream, has awakened him from his slumber.

She will never be able to comprehend it because that would mean comprehending insanity itself.

And one cannot fully comprehend such a vague phenomena.

Not if you're mentally stable, anyway.

Because insanity is different for everyone, insanity comes in different themes and intensities.

He clutches her close to him, with a desperation she innocently takes for passion, and a disturbing flicker of glee flashes past his crimson eyes.

His blood pounds in his ears, his restraint cut free like blades severing a knot for a split second.

He _lovesloves__loves _her.

So much it _hurts_.

She doesn't understand it now – maybe she never will, maybe he'll never _let_ her because it's something dark and twisted; something horrifying and frightening.

But he'll never let her go.

Never.

The Black Blood is a parasite; something that thrives, that leaches, that _lives _off of his life force in every second of his small existence.

It corrodes everything it touches, it yearns to take over, it attacks weakness and finds cracks in his walls.

Yet it fuels his resolve; keeps him going in this dreary, dismal, world.

It's apart of him now.

And it wants her; wants her like he needs air.

But he won't let her go so easily, either.

He's willing to shed his own blood to keep her safe from its tarnishing touch.

But in a sick twist of irony, it's the very reason he cannot let her go.

She's his strength, she keeps everything sane and okay with her angelic touch, and she keeps his obsession with her in check.

Without her, these flames they've let burn would grow out of control...

Black Blood is dangerous.

_I'll never let her go – _it whispers. He can almost hear it breathing in his ear, wheezing chuckles that chill him to the very marrow of his bones. That rancid, revolting smack against serrated teeth as it whispers to him – _I'll never let her go, even if I have to tie her to the bed and set the house on fire._

"Soul, what's wrong? You look pale..."

She'll never understand.

"Nothing's wrong... I'm just thirsty. It's really hot in here – did Blair turn off the AC again?"

"I don't think so... Let me check!"

But he'll never let her understand.

For now, she's his lover; his everything.

He just fears the day she'll become his sick fascination; the wickedly beautiful creature he will tear apart and sew back together like one of Stein's laboratory experiments.

For now, he'll keep her happy; pluck each star from the sky and give them to her if she so desires it.

For now, he'll treasure her.

For now.

* * *

**A.N: **I've always wondered, since Soul is still infected with Black Blood, what would happen if, over time, it managed to get the best of him through his love for Maka...?

Schizo!Soul is _win._

_Scarlett._


	8. Feeling a Moment

**Soul Mix  
by. **_Poisoned Scarlet_

**Jam 08: **Feeling a Moment by Feeder  
_Soul_

"_Don't ever feel, that you're alone  
I'll never let you down, I'll never leave you dry  
Don't fall apart, don't let it go  
Carry the motion, carry the motion back to me"_

* * *

_He searched for her through the thicket of trees and bushes, pushing past branches and stumbling over tree roots. But the greenery only seemed to grow thicker with every step and he was growing anxious because he could no longer hear her pleasant humming._

_It's only dead silence – even the cracking and breaking twigs were silent under his feet. _

_Finally, he broke through the last branch but the ground shifted, breaking in two uneven pieces with one shooting up into the mauve colored sky and crumbling; crushing him down into an abyss of black he couldn't escape from. _

_A sheet of glass broke his fall but shattered under the impact, shards of crystalline white encasing him in a fragile but broken blanket before they sped up once more and the tips and edges of the glass pierced his skin._

_He could hear her hum again – faintly, but audible._

_The soft tune that cut through the shatter of glass and silence made him desperate – he __had__ to reach it, somehow, someway._

_Where had she gone? And why couldn't he find her? _

_He struggled to remove himself from the pit of broken glass he was now bathing in, ignoring the blood that pooled and drizzled below him as he swam through the ocean of needles and glass. His bloody hand gripped the edge and he hauled himself out of the pit that's now red with his blood._

_Her hum was growing farther – he feared he wouldn't be able to make it as he distractedly patted off the imbedded shards of glass from his knees and arms. _

_The dark was so infinite and inky, it's a wonder he hadn't yet stopped to think about what he was doing._

_In his mind, it was urgent he reached her before her hum snuffed out totally, and nothing else mattered but reaching her._

_He __needed__ to reach her._

_There's something like a door ahead, the inch-wide slit underneath bright with light. _

_It seemed like forever before he made it to the door, and when he pulled it open to reveal the blinding white, his eyes adjusted to the light belatedly and he found her kneeling before something he couldn't see; her hum so loud but welcomed in his ears._

"_Maka!" He sighed in relief, stopping a step behind her. "What are you doing in here by yourself?"_

_Her humming continued._

"_Maka?" He kneeled, hesitantly placing a hand on her shoulder. "Maka? Hey, are you okay?" He pulled her shoulder back and his heart slowed down at the sight of her wide and innocent green eyes; the slight smile that danced on her lips. "Geez, don't scare me like that!" He grumbled, but his irritation faded at the doll-like smile on her face. "...Maka?"_

"_Soul..." She murmured, green fading to toxic lime; a smile twisting her lips ugly. The bloodlust was so palpable in the room now he wondered how he never noticed it before, as a shrieking laugh escaped her lips and her eyes darkened with sadistic glee. "You're useless, you know that? All you do is lay there – __I__ do all the __real__ work. You're just a tool and you can't even do that right." She crawled on her knees, leaning over him._

_She pushed him into the floor, sinking him as the floor dissolved under her touch. She grinned down at him, her hair falling out of its neat pigtails, cascading down her shoulders and framing her face prettily. _

_But there was nothing pretty about the murderous way she was looking at him. _

"_I don't need you."_

"_Maka..."_

"_I never needed you." Her arm transformed, a sleek black blade taking its place. It's big – bigger than his own – and sharper, glinting under the radiance that pulsed through the white room. "I don't need you anymore, Soul, what use do I have for a weapon like you when __mine__ is obviously better__?"_

_His eyes widened._

_He swore it felt like she punched through his chest and tore his heart out._

_But all she did was grin knowingly and raise her preferred blade; black and not red, strong over weak. "Bye, Soul-kun." And it's almost like a movie – it came down at him with painful slowness, it tore crookedly down his shoulder all the way to the other end, and the blood that splattered was so much he didn't believe it; the sight of her bloody face so full of satisfaction numbing him to the bone—!_

"SOUL WAKE UP!"

He's staring into queasy moss green eyes and not sickly lime ones.

And her arm isn't morphed into a blade and she isn't murdering him with a twistedly happy grin on her face.

She's normal – she's Maka – and she looks concerned, not murderous.

"Soul?" She whispers, squeezing his shoulder in comfort. "Are you okay?"

He rips his shoulder from her grasp and looks away, calming his racing heart and taming the wild look in his usually dull eyes. He swallows to get a handle on his emotions, reminding himself that this is _Maka Albarn_, his _meister_, and the last thing she would do is kill and abandon him because she isn't that type of person and she is incapable of transforming into a weapon like he is.

That was a one-time thing.

It was a fight-or-flight response she had only been able to activate under unconsciousness.

Stein said so.

And he trusted Stein, even if the man was the least stable out of all the school faculty.

"Soul? You're scaring me, are you okay?" She sounds so worried; he wonders how much he must've screamed to get her like this.

"I'm fine." He rasps. "Don't worry about it – it was just a really bad dream." His muscles still tremble, still ready to spring into action at any sign of danger, as he reclines back on his hands and takes another deep breath. "I'll be fine..."

Maka stays quiet, kneeling on the edge of his bed. "Wh... what was it about?" She asks timidly. She steels her voice; he remembers she doesn't like showing weakness, especially in front of him. "Maybe if you talk about it, you won't get it again."

He shakes his head, automatically shooting down the request to open up. There's no way in hell he'll tell her he just dreamed she murdered him with her own blade. "It's nothing, Maka. I can't even remember it now."

She fists her hands and chides herself to be patient with him. "... Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'm sure." He forces a grin, finally looking at her.

Maka slides off the bed and stands at full-height, making him involuntarily flinch because he has a flashback of her looming over him in that intensely white room; grinning madly, saying those horrible things with such a sugary voice.

"You should go back to bed." He tells her, composing his voice just in time. "We have school tomorrow and—!"

"It can wait." She sits down on his bedside stubbornly. "What's wrong, Soul? You've been acting really weird for the past few weeks. I want to know why."

He freezes.

He can't believe what has just come out of her mouth; has she really just put _school _second and placed him first? Has she just _really _told him that she'd rather stay in his room trying to figure him out than go to bed and get her eight hours? Because Maka _needs_ her eight hours of sleep – she doesn't function well if she gets any less.

"Quit being nosy. Nothing's wrong, Maka." He replies, glad he sounds unaffected by her words even though he's scrambling for normalcy.

"No, something _is _wrong!" Maka stresses, growing impatient with his attitude. "Something has _been_ wrong ever since we defeated the Kishin Asura! Why can't you trust me enough to tell me? Am I so unreliable that you can't even trust your partner with this?"

He sharply looks at her. "Maka, you're not unreliable—!"

"Then why won't you _trust _me?" Maka pleads, biting down on her lip when he just shifts his eyes away from her. She doesn't understand. Her hands fist the sheets in an attempt to quell her hurt and rage.

"... There's no reason for me to burden you with this." Soul answers quietly. "It's nothing I can't handle on my own."

"Liar." Maka whispers, accusingly. He clenches his jaw. "You _know_ I hate liars, Soul."

"You're not better than I am!" He snaps back. "You _always _lie to me whenever something's wrong! Don't make me look like the villain here, Maka, because you know damn well I'm not!"

"But at least _I _don't trust _witches_ with my problems!" She bitterly reminds him, making his anger spike to a whole new level of uncool.

"Look, I didn't _know _she was a witch, alright? She looked pretty normal to me—!"

"You're not seeing the point here!" Maka snarls. "You'd trust some random stranger with your problems than your own _partner_!"

"I don't always _have _to go to you when I have a problem!" He fiercely shouts.

"You NEVER go to me when you have a problem!" Maka explodes, the bitterness and hurt palpable in her tone. He suddenly feels like he's let her down, somehow. "You _always_ go to someone else and then it builds up to the point where it blows up in your face and it affects our partnerships!" She ground her teeth, shocking him silent with his next words: "I'm not just here to convert you into a Deathscythe, Soul, I actually _care _about you! I _want _you to come to me when you have a problem... I-I don't want to just sit there and watch you sulk over something we can fix _together!_"

He guesses it's the stress from the dream, the stress that has built up for the past few weeks, that makes his response to her admittance so strong. But he finds himself burying his nose in her chest, clutching her so close he's almost suffocating himself in her nightwear.

And he's mumbling stuff he doesn't quite understand himself – digging his fingers into her back while she softly strokes his head with her hands, whispering a few things he can't comprehend because he's too busy trying to hold back from having a total mental melt down.

It isn't cool – not at all, to be so weak in front of his meister.

_He's_ supposed to be the emotionally mature one here; the one who knows how to handle his feelings and sort out his thoughts. He helps her during battle, he's always that voice that guides her through the steps, and to have the roles reversed is a culture shock he can't bring himself to accept yet.

He's her weapon – her partner – and his main objective is to keep his meister happy and safe from harm. He doesn't play a major role in this equation: all he has to make sure of is that he is kept healthy and strong so that she may wield him like the tool he was born to be.

Like it's supposed to be.

But it's different for them – it's _always_ been different for them – since he's such an important facet in her life.

She spends more time fussing over his well-being than her own. He has to constantly remind her not to skip meals and drag her out of the house by her collar so she gets her dose of human contact. He's been willing to die for her since day one but she's also been willing to die for _him,_ which isn't right at all: why would a meister sacrifice themselves for their own _weapon_? Shibusen stresses the importance of meister-weapon trust and dependability but the academy sure as hell doesn't teach that it's okay for the meister to pay more attention to the weapon.

It's not normal.

But they've never been normal, so he guesses it's justified.

"It's okay Soul..." She whispers, so low he can barely hear her over the drum of his pounding heart. "I... I'm here."

He can't take it anymore – he has to tell her. Suddenly, it's _urgent _that he tells her what his sick mind has conjured up this time around, and the words spill out of his mouth before he has a chance to catch up with what is happening; with what those words could _change_ between them.

But she listens, quietly, and when he finally finishes; when he takes that shuddering breath that allows his mind to really catch up with itself, his stomach plummets and he doesn't know what else to do but rest against her chest like he has for the past thirty minutes now.

"... So that's what's been bothering you." She chuckles softly. "You're such an idiot sometimes."

It's the last thing he expects to hear from her after spilling his guts out but Maka would always be Maka. She wouldn't bathe him with compassion and sympathy and all those disgusting emotions people express when they're trying to comfort someone. She would do something else; something he probably never expected.

Because that was made her, her.

That was what made her so invaluable to him.

"I'd never replace you Soul – much less with _me_!" She hunches over, resting her cheek against the back of his head while he breathes in her sweet scent. "Professor Stein already cleared this up: the only reason I was able to transform parts of my body into scythes was because I was unconscious and my body was reacting on its own to the danger. It activated the weapon gene I got from my papa."

"... I know..."

Maka sighs softly, her fingers playing with a few strands of his hair. "Then don't let it get to you. I'm not a real weapon, Soul. I'm only _half_ and my meister blood from my mama is more dominate than the weapon gene I inherited from papa. I can't magically become a weapon like you can – Professor Stein said my body wouldn't be able to take the strain if I began training as one anyway."

"Doesn't mean you _can't._" Soul mutters.

"But I _won't _even if Professor Stein said I _could_." Maka firmly states. "I'm your meister, Soul, and I'm not about to leave you so I could train myself as a weapon. That's just ridiculous! You're my _partner_, and I'll always be here for you until the day you don't want me to." She sincerely says, making his chest tighten with something warm.

The last bit she said is ridiculous because he already can't imagine a day without her clanging on a pot in the morning for breakfast or beating him up black and blue with a damn book whenever he says something dumb.

"A-and..." Her voice takes on an unnatural high pitch. "I'd never hurt you, Soul... _ever_..." She forces his head down when he tries to look up, and he complies with her request as she gathers her wits. "The last thing I want is...is for you to be hurt and for _me_ to hurt you...like that..." She sounds choked up and this time he does look up, mouth parting with words that'll never breach the surface at the sight of her watery eyes.

Now he made her cry.

That definitely isn't cool.

"Don't cry, Maka." He sighs, pushing himself up enough to be level with her. He wipes a few stray tears away, pressing his lips together when more take their place. "It's not your fault my head is so screwed up."

"But—!" She sucks in a whimper, looking so small and fragile; unlike the strong and assertive girl he has come to be very fond of.

"It's not cool for girls as cool as you to cry." He smiles crookedly when her eyes widen at his words.

"You...you really think I'm cool?" She sniffles, sounding hopeful.

"Of course." He grins at her slightly happier face. "What made you think you weren't?"

"You and Black Star are always calling me names and teasing me!" Maka argues, wiping away some of her last tears with the back of her hand. "And you've called me uncool a lot of times!"

Soul chuckles. "Well, you _are _cool. Way cooler than Black Star is, too." His eyes twinkle with mirth at her surprised face; the pink that has blotted her cheeks pleasantly. "But don't tell him I said that that or he might hang me when I'm sleeping." He grins.

She smiles, a sweet smile that's unlike the twisted one he can faintly remember. This smile doesn't choke the breath out of him, it just makes him feel awkward and unsure; like he always feels when she drops her guard and shows him just how much of a girl she can really be.

He yawns, stretching his arms over his head and changing the subject before things begin to get weird. "Huh, I should spill my guts out more often; I feel way better!"

"See? I told you!" Maka huffs, silently agreeing with him and firmly changing the atmosphere into something more friendly and normal. "Talking about your problems to someone you can trust helps eliminate them for good!" She nods, proudly.

"What book you'd get that from?" Soul mutters. "The self-help section?"

"For your information, I read that in a psychology book I checked out—!"

"Yeah, yeah!" Soul waves a hand at her rant, dismissing her. "Whatever...now if I could only get _you _to tell me _your_ issues, then we'd do that psych book some justice." Soul says thoughtfully, snorting when she looks bewildered.

"What? I don't have any problems!"

"Maka, hate to break it to you, but you're a _girl. _Girls are always full of uncool problems."

Flushed, she shouts: "SEE? You just called me uncool right now!"

"No, I called _girls problems _uncool." He smartly replies.

"I _am _a girl!"

"With problems? Then I take back what I said – way to be uncool, Maka!" He laughs when she bangs her fists at his chest in frustration, shouting something he can barely hear over the sound of his own laughter.


	9. Boum, Boum

**Soul Mix  
by. **_Poisoned Scarlet_

**Jam 09: **Boum Boum by Enigma**  
**_Maka_

"_Simplicity, complexity, oh, what a tragedy  
Reality, insanity, strange normality  
Incredible, untouchable, visual  
And I want you, just you, but natural..."_

* * *

The chapter of Lust.

The smell of sex and sin is thick in the air.

It threatens to constrict you into its dusty pages.

Your body, they say, hasn't changed at all but you beg a differ! There are a lot of differences, _noticeable _differences, but, strangely enough, you don't make a big deal out of it like you would if you were a girl. You just brush if off instead of being hurt by their comments.

You sorta' _don't care._

That demon woman, _clearly _looking like something out of this world, is rubbing herself against the damn pole. Or whatever the hell it is, you don't have the patience to wrack your brain for the word like you would if you were a girl. It just doesn't seem necessary anymore - _thing _covers it enough.

You know it's wrong, but you stare. Her tits are so _huge_, and her ass is just _begging_ to be groped, and she's _panting_, sliding smoldering eyes in your direction deliberately; making a surge of _want _jolt through your body at her sultry gaze.

She's only wearing an apron... how slutty... yet your body can't help but react to her state of near-undress.

You feel your heart pounding in your chest, pounding your ears and every vital point, and your pants feel _tighter _all of a sudden?

And then you feel it: a rush of thick warmth down your lips. Blood starts to leak out of your nose because, holy _shit_, she's _hot!_

"I... feel like I've just figured out what it's like to be a man." You mutter, unable to stop staring at her jiggling, _humongous_, soft and perky, boobs...

"Hey, the hells so great about that thing?" Soul shouts at you, his voice octaves higher; giving him that feminine tone. A high soprano, like yours used to be although _now _it's a regular baritone. The typical voice of a male. "Are you going to melt just because she's got big boobs? Is that it?" She sounds jealous; you wonder why for a second before that demon woman drives your attention back.

Damn, she's hot.

But she's a demon and that's a problem.

You try to shift your eyes away from the succumbs, because you know she's just there to trick you, but it takes a while. Eventually, though, you manage to tear you eyes away again. You focus within yourself, within your soul, and you regain your senses almost immediately.

Sex.

Money.

Filth.

You don't need it. Who the hell would want to become like your dumbass dad, anyway? Definitely not you.

"I can't believe it! You're the worst! To think that _that _type of woman could get a reaction out of you...UGH!" Soul growls, fisting her delicate hands by her side. Her face is pink with fury. "You're no different than other men, Maka! You're disgusting!"

"Soul..." You vigorously rub your nose to get rid of the blood. That was a low blow, what the heck's her problem? You finally get a good look at her, and the exact opposite of what's running through your mind spills from your lips: "You know, you're kinda' creepy as a girl..."

Her button nose wrinkles and her jewel eyes narrow. "You're not that normal yourself, you know!"

"I never said I was." You answer, cheekily.

"Ugh! Quit playing your games! That's definitely not cool, you..." and you drown her out as she rants. You wonder if Soul usually does this to you, too, and guess you honestly can't blame him – sometimes all that nagging rubs on your nerves.

Kind of like that hot (but evil) succumbs did to that weird pole thing... _rubbing _herself...

You surreptitiously pinch your arm.

Dirty comparisons like that aren't cool or _like you _at all! Stupid book.

"Soul." You direct blank green eyes at her, calmly saying: "You're so loud. Would you shut up already? I'm not going to be swayed by some dirty slut, so pipe down. You don't want to attract something worse with your screams, do you?" And you turn away, leaving her shocked silent and seething; you can feel the anger radiating off of her.

You wonder _am I like that when I'm a girl? _If so, then you guess you shouldn't blame Soul so much for being annoyed half the time. But somehow it's sweet and cute – how she's getting all flustered and worked up at you for looking at another woman. You wonder, again, if it's the same for him, and that makes pink rush to your face.

"Ugh, I think I get what being a guy is all about..." You mutter again, wiping away some last remnants of blood off your lip. "I like being a girl better." You're not lying either. You feel kind of _dumbed_ _down_ in this form...

"Humph!" Soul huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. You notice her chest is quite _flat _and allow a slight smirk to dash your face. Who's flat-chested _now, _huh? She notices and frowns, asking with a risen brow: "What're you looking at?"

"No, nothing..." While the others are gawking over the succumbs you have already dismissed as nothing more than a filthy beast, you take this time to subtly gaze appreciatively at this new Soul. He's cute as a girl. _Very_ cute. To the point where you just want to bring her into a tight hug and bury your nose in her long, silky, white locks of hair...

You just want to tear off her clothes, strip by strip, and savor the porcelain skin hidden underneath.

You just want to run your lips down her neck, twine your fingers through her own, and—

You gulp.

Soul narrows her eyes. She tilts her head, suspiciously. "Maka? Are you alright? Is something wrong?"

You don't trust yourself to speak right now.

Get your mind out of the gutter! This chapter is only amplifying your sexual desires; it's nothing out of the ordinary. Everyone else is also experiencing this type of thing. You think you'll be fine once you exit the chapter and move onto the next one, which, if you recall, as you have read through the Book of Eibon briefly before, is a chapter that gives hints to Gluttony.

"I'm fine." You tell her, smiling somewhat crookedly; a habit, it seems, you adopted from your weapon. You notice she goes a little pink and you wonder why for a second before chuckling at the ridiculous notion of Soul being affected by you. You calmly sink you hands into the pockets of your slacks. You don't slouch, though. "You know what, Soul?"

"What?"

"You're pretty cute as a girl." Your smile widens at her sharp in take of breath, oddly. You side-glance her: her wide eyes and flushed cheeks. "But I prefer you better as a guy." You pause. Then you say, a little disturbed: "Uh, does this mean I'm gay or something?" Was that even _necessary _to say? You think, weirded out. You think you've said something that _might _give away your feelings for Soul, but right now, stuck as a guy, you don't go into detail about it because Soul has distracted you again.

He giggles. That kind of creeps you out, because this is _Soul _and the Soul you know definitely _doesn't_ giggle. That'd just be weird and creepy and totally uncool. "No, I don't think so. Since you _were _born a girl. Our genders have just been reversed here, our sexual preferences are still the same, though."

"Ah, this chapter is screwing with my head!" You rustle your hair with your hand in frustration, scowling. How annoying. You just want to go back to being a girl – at least that's easier to deal with than having your _thing _act up to filthy whores. Geez, you wonder if it's like this for all guys, and have the covert urge to pummel Soul once you get out of this book and everything goes back to normal...

"Well, then." Blair says, smirking after defeating that filthy demon with her Pum-Pumpkin Cannon. Her male form is just as entrancing as her female form. You guess, either way, Blair will always seduce _someone. _"Shall we move onto the next chapter...?"

"Let's do as Blair says and move on." Soul speaks up, directing sharp rogue eyes to the Index that nods in understanding. She's way less lazy as a chick, you dryly notice. "We're ready."

"Do you have any lingering attachments to the sin of 'Lust'?" It asks, sagely.

"Uh, no." You say, uncomfortable now. You just wanna' get outta' here – being a girl is _way_ better than being some dumb guy who can't even keep his mind out of the goddamn gutter. Or stop himself from saying stupid stuff. It's so lame. "A quick skim of this place is all we need."

"Very well..." And the world curls in on itself and you're being sent to another chapter within this accursed book...


	10. Paralyzer

**Soul Mix  
by. **_Poisoned Scarlet_

**Jam 10: **Paralyzer by Finger Eleven  
_Maka_

"_Well, I'm not paralyzed but I seem to be struck by you..."_

* * *

The flashing strobe lights are blotching your eyesight as you stand awkwardly to the side, holding a martini glass that Liz had forcibly shoved in your hand nearly half an hour ago.

You have yet to take a drink of it because you aren't the type of girl to drown her anxiety with alcohol, and you have never been the type to drink in the first place. You tell yourself you actually _need _to use the neurons that would be inevitably lost to the poisonous effects of alcohol.

Black Star and Soul are up on the DJ tower, overlooking the entire club scene, with giant headphones on their heads as they rip out remixes and electronic sounds that make your toes curl in anticipation.

You have heard nearly all of the synthesized sounds they have been dishing out (because you are a _huge _fan of trance fusion, techno and electro) and although you are amused that Soul seems to have a permanent scowl on his face (obviously still convinced trance, techno, and electro don't even _count_ as music), you can't calm your racing heart or upset stomach.

You have never been to a club before.

You're nineteen but you're unused to such a crowded, sweltering, _loud _place with colorful flashes of light blinding you and a heady cloud of sex and alcohol suffocating you. Every one of your friends has told you to loosen up, to chill out, to _relax_, but it's hard when all your life you have been safely confined to the pages of your books and the four walls of your room. Although, a particularly nasty comment from Soul convinced you to at least _pretend _like you're enjoying yourself, going as far as tapping your shoe on the floor or nodding your head to the electric beats.

An energetic track bursts from the speakers and you find yourself swaying your body a little, actually enjoying this song, and tapping your recently painted purple nails against the glass in your hand. You close your eyes and breathe in, trying to calm your heart; trying to calm your racing thoughts, the anxiety clouding your mind. You try to adjust to the scenery, try to _blend_ with the bobbing mass that sways around you, and, before you know it, you have abandoned the glass on the bar table behind you with no intention on returning back to it. Instead, you get drunk off the pounding energy.

You know how to dance this – hell, out of _every one of your friends_, you _know _how to dance this the best because you listen to this on a daily basis. You actually like it, unlike them.

Jump-style, gliding, shuffling... you know it all – it's what helps you get by when you're in battle, curiously.

Your body moves in accordance with the beats, the bass reverberating through your body and leaving you breathless.

A grin has spread on your lips.

This music really pumps you up, exhilarates you, and makes you want to break free from your inhibitions. And now that you have released yourself from societal restraints, nothing can stop you.

Someone has pressed a glow stick in your hand and your eyes fly open, watching a heavily-pierced man biting on the filter of a cigarette wink at you and thrash his head to the sudden scream of the edit.

You smile, cracking the stick and letting it burn to life in her hand.

You twirl it around your fingers with practiced ease, feeling suddenly free from the pressures of normal life in the hot mass of bodies. Maybe your friends were right: maybe you _did _need this. Your hair has lost some of its bounce because of the sweat but you could care less, as you jump with the rest, laugh with the rest, and twist and twirl and try out those moves Justin Law had taught you a long time ago.

Shuffling, he said, is both a helpful skill on the battlefield and on the dance floor. He had been impressed by your effortless gliding when he saw you training with Soul Eater in the training field, and he had taught you how to dance well, as you part the crowd that has gathered around you in cheers and hoots.

A girl jumps in beside you and mimics you pretty well, her laughter loud. "Hey, you!" She calls, excited. She's grinning. "You're really good!"

"Thanks! You, too!" You answer, somewhat awkwardly. The compliment isn't enough to make you stumble, however, and to avoid the girls admiring gaze, you lose yourself in the intense beats of the current remix by closing your eyes.

You wonder if _this_ is how Soul loses himself in his jazz, and you are even _more _encouraged to understand the abstract concept of music.

The sounds abruptly change, to something wild and crazy, and now you're jumping to the hard beat and laughing with that girl who complimented you; totally taking the spotlight in your little area as other people jump in with you, unbeknownst to yourself, and synchronize with your erratic but hypnotizing movements.

It's an amazing sight, honestly. From the bar, Liz watches with raised brows. She downs her shot of vodka and glances at the DJ tower, smirking when she finds Soul watching his meister with wide eyes. Black Star grumbles about Maka being an 'attention-hog'. He scowls and smacks Soul on his head when he ignores him in favor of watching his meister, causing Liz to laugh and turn her attention back to you.

In the mass of wild party-goers, your eyes flutter open and automatically fix on the dark red ones that are coming closer and closer to you and igniting a fire to burn pleasantly within you. The song has switched to something more leisure and calm and the sounds seduce you into a lazy sway.

Your eyes slide close again, allowing the beats and bass to race through your body and entrance you in the way trance fusion always has.

The bass throbs in your head.

Your body glides through the massive crowd.

Your breaths are erratic, labored, and you can feel beads of sweat trickle down the side of your neck.

Its so hot in this room now, how could you have not noticed it before?

A hand touches your arm, another brushes your waist, but you already know who it is without having to open your eyes.

"I didn't know you could dance."

Your eyes open and you turn to look at Soul, who is grinning lopsidedly in that way that makes you so needy but confused. "Justin Law taught me." You tell him, swaying with him in the small spot of space you have while being barricaded by other dancing bodies. "He's a fan of trance fusion, you know."

"What? No way!"

"What do you think he's listening to all the time?" You softly snort and dare to lean against his chest. His hands gain confidence: they rest on the curve of your waist, the curves you have finally, _finally, _been able to gain after so many years. "Trance fusion is a good way to coordinate movement. It improves concentration, too."

"It's still a bunch of noise to me."

You rest your head against his shoulder, content with just swaying side to side gently despite the pounding track that Black Star has just unleashed.

"Well, _I_ like it..." You crack an eye open, noticing that the lights have now become a delirious clash of purple, blue and red.

You think it's pretty but disconcerting.

_And maybe that's the whole idea.._.

"Black Star's jealous." Soul whispers in your ear, making shivers crawl up your arms. His voice is so smooth and velvety; the perfect tenor to make you tremble with want, make you impatiently pant although you blame it on the intense heat that threatens to suffocate you both. "You were taking the spotlight with those cool moves."

"I... was?"

He snorts. "You didn't notice? You practically split the crowd in two!"

You face becomes flushed and you can only utter a small, "Oh", as you recall bits and pieces of hollers and whistles that you mistakenly thought were for the edit being played, not you; never you, because you are Maka Albarn and Maka Albarn doesn't get cheered at or hollered at so energetically - _especially _not at club scenes.

"I... think I finally understand." You whisper, knowing he has not heard you by the way he doesn't respond.

And you're fine with that because you want to keep this realization to yourself for a little longer.

You press yourself against him despite the heat; resting your head on his shoulder while his arms snake around your waist.

You eat the attention up because Soul has been such a tease these past few weeks and you're brimming with frustration and confusion. You have no idea what this means, not yet, but you'll figure it out, you think, and when you do, Soul will be sorely sorry for trying to rile you up so badly.

This is no waltz but in those moments you think you wouldn't care less if it were _swing_ booming from the stereo, as you lead him in the only genre music he's ignorant and clumsy to: the music that has given you a broader insight to the sounds of the jazz he adores...

* * *

**A/N: **I'm convinced I will be creating ANOTHER Soul Eater collection, but this one will be filled with all of the SoMa story ideas that will never, ever, be completed for various reasons. Most will be... well, actually, instead of just posting up the first chapter of every one of them (goes to show you just how _many _of them I've created...) I'll take out interesting scenes and just dump them into that collection. That, or I get struck with another idea and do that one instead. I'm not sure yet. I sort of want to create a collection involving _all _of the Soul Eater characters, but I haven't had enough ideas to execute it.

AND _YES_, I am thoroughly convinced Maka knows how to shuffle because, come _on_, she listens to TRANCE! She's _got _to know some moves!

I hope you all enjoyed this collection! :D

Side Note: _Soul Bond _has been updated with the second chapter! Check it out if you're interested.

_Scarlett._


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